Black and Gold
by A Girl Named K
Summary: Soloman has never met a woman quite like Tanith Low.Tanith has never met a prick quite like Soloman Wreath. When the two get thrown together,on the run from fanatical Necromancers,they take refuge in the midnight hotel. M for later chapters. Solith x
1. The Prince

**The Prince**

Soloman was reading Machiavelli's 'The Prince' in his chamber within the Temple. It was a dull day in here, no services, no gossip, nothing of interest. God, he needed to get back out investigating. He liked being a freelance detective. His role as a Head Cleric in the Temple had to be one of the most boring occupations there were. He could empathise with Catholic priests for getting bored with their religious duties...almost.

A giggling interrupted his reading and he looked up in time to see Miridien Nox and Luna Morose collapse against the frame of his open door, mouths clamped together. Soloman waited for a moment, watching as they practically ate each other, then finally cleared his throat loudly. Miridien broke away first and looked at Soloman, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey Soloman," he greeted, stepped back off Luna as she brushed her black robes down. "Sorry, did we interrupt you?"

"Oh no, not at all Cleric Nox," Soloman said, marking his book and shutting it for the moment. "No, renaissance literature gets dull after a while. Watching you and the lovely Miss Morose grind each other against my doorframe is just what I needed."

Luna giggled and pulled Miridien to her. "I think your friend's jealous, sweetie." she muttered seductively into his ear. She turned to Soloman and smiled. "If let us in you could join us, if you like Soloman."

Soloman raised an eyebrow. They both had jet black hair, pale skin, and black eyes. They could have been brother and sister, they looked so alike.

"Thank you for the offer, Luna, but I prefer twosomes." He shrugged. "It keeps things simple."

Miridien seemed to look at him thoughfully for a moment, then prised himself away from Luna and moved over to Soloman. He sat on the edge of Soloman's bed, as Soloman sat in his armchair. Soloman was slightly worried.

"Soloman," Miridien sighed sadly. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Soloman sat, stunned. He had to struggle to keep himself from blushing, but even at that he felt he failed. "What?"

"Sol, people have been talking," Miridien said slowly, glancing at Luna.

"What people?" Soloman asked, and right on cue, Craven stepped into the doorway beside Luna, a grin on his blandly good-looking face.

"Every other Necromancer in here, Soloman." he said in that annoyingly pompous voice of his. "The word is that you're either gay or frigid."

Soloman's silvery blue eyes glared at him, outraged. "I am certainly NOT gay, Craven. Sorry to disappoint." Craven turned pink and glared back.

"And if you're all so interested," Soloman continued, lending his glare to all of them. "I got 'laid', as you say, last week."

"Was it a hooker?" Luna asked. Soloman stared her out for a momnet, then looked away. "Yes."

"Thought so," she said happily. Craven shook his head in mock sadness.

"Soloman, Soloman, prostitutes are all very well for one night flings and for keeping loneliness at bay. But when are you ever going to find yourself a nice Necromancer girl?"

"When are you going to find yourself a nice Necromancer boy, Craven," Soloman replied with a cold smirk, receiving another glare off him. Miridien cleared his throat.

"We just think you'd be happier if you found someone, Soloman," he said, sounding genuine, though annoyingly so. "Practically everyone else has paired up."

"I prefer my own company," Soloman muttered. Luna giggled again.

"I always though you were the type to cry your own name at night," she laughed and Craven joined her. Even Miridien sniggered slightly. Soloman fumed.

"Alright, out," he snapped. "All of you. I do not need relationship advice or snide remarks. Get out. Craven smirked and glided out of the door way, while Miridien gave Soloman and apologetic smile and left with Luna clinging from his arm.

Soloman was left alone with his thoughts. There used to be a time when the other Necromancers respected him, when they wouldn't dare look sideways at him, just because he was...well, becuase he was Soloman Wreath. Nowadays, he did notice the others whispering as he passed down the corridors, and becoming silent when he entered their company. Things were different, and he thought originally that it was because they were in awe. He was, after all, the trainer of their possible Deathbringer. But could it really be because he was lacking a girlfriend? Could it really be because of something that stupid?

He thought of the mentality of some of his fellow Necromancers, and thought that this was more than likely so.


	2. The Princess?

**2-The Princess**

Tanith was speeding across Dublin on her bike, still chewing on a piece of toast beneath her helmet as she rode, weaving through traffic and listening to Numb on her i-pod. She had to admit, her concentration was impeccable. She had proved that for sure last night, with...what was his name? Brian? Ryan...anyway, he had been hot. But FAR too clingy. She had to get away this morning...but not before she stole some toast from his breadbin.

She was already late for meeting Skulduggery, Valkyrie, Fletcher and Ghastly in China's library. She skidded to a halt outside the tenemant building and whipped off her helmet, sitting it on the back of the bike and sticking a post-it saying TOUCH THIS, YOU DIE on it, then bolting upstairs.

The library was quiet, as usual, but with fewer random readers than usual also. Even so, Tanith looked around for her friends. Eventually she found Valkyire sitting at a dest in an alcove, bent over a thick, old looking book. Tanith grinned and bounced over to her.

"Hey ya!" she greeted and Valkyrie jumped, looking up.

"Oh, hi Tanith," she said, distractedly, not so subtly pulling the book closer to herself. Tanith's smile weakened. Her friend seemed worried somehow, unable to meet Tanith's gaze. Tanith cocked her head.

"What's up?" she asked. Valkyrie shrugged and tried to smile.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Val, that is really fucking annoying, you know. Just tell me what the hell is wrong."

Valkyrie sighed. "I was just...reading something, is all. Anyway, Skulduggery and Ghastly are off at the shop, if you're looking for them but they'll be back soon. Fletcher's after fecking off somewhere and China's also in here somewhere, floating around, as gorgeous as ever."

"O-kay, thank's for the not so subtle change in subject, Val," Tanith said, raising and eyebrow. "Unless China being so gorgeous or Fletcher flying off on you is what's bugging you, I don't see the point in you mentioning this to me."

"Okay, fine," Valkyrie said abruptly, turning the book so Tanith could read the page. "That's what's bugging me. Happy now?"

Tanith gave her an odd look then looked down at the page obediently. Then she froze, a breath hitching in her throat. The title of the chapter Valkyrie was reading was '**The Death Bringer – Messiah or Monstrousity?**

"Death Bringer," Tanith whispered, her eyes wide and staring at the page. Valkyrie nodded.

"Basically the Death Bringer is who the Necromancers believe will break down the barrier between life and death," Valkyire explained, her voice dull and sorrowful. "But in doing so, kills the world. According to Soloman, I have all the qualities of a potential Death Bringer."

Tanith looked up from the book and stared at her friend, still shocked. "Soloman thinks that you're the Death Bringer?"

Valkyrie's brown eyes looked so sad and scared. She nodded. "Yeah. Apparently because of how quickly I've passed through the ranks...I could be it. I could be the Death Bringer. The other Necromancers are starting to think it too." She gave Tanith a weak smile. "I get to destroy the world. Isn't that great?"

Tanith looked at her friend for a long moment. She saw how much she was hurting, she saw it in her eyes. It was more than she could bear, so she stood up.

"Right," she announced. "I'm going to see him."

Valkyrie looked at Tanith, and though her eyes were still sad, she let out a small laugh. "What, you're..you're not going to give out to Soloman about this, are you?"

"Oh too right I am," Tanith said, digging her keys out of her pocket. She looked at her friend, furious. "Do you realise what he's implying Val?"

"Well, yeah," Valkyrie said with a shrug. "But, what do you know about the Death Bringer?"

"Oh, I know enough," Tanith said, and with that she stormed out of the library, out to her bike.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Soloman reached the top of the steps that led out of the Temple, reaching the rusty old gate that closed off the mausoleum. He gestured with his hand and the gates, charmed to respond to Necromancer energy only, opened up. He stepped into the graveyard and was hit with the energy of death wafting from the graves around him. He smiled. Many things he despised about the Necromancer way of life, but this nostalgic feeling never left him. The air smelt of rain and the sky over head was grey. Not the most beautiful October afternoon, but still pleasant.

He began to walk therough the long grass in his boots, when he saw a figure coming through the graveyard from the gates. A figure he recognised. Her blonde curly hair blew behind her as she strode through the yard, her arms bare in her brown leather tunic. She was apparently unfazed be the cold, she got closer he saw a determined expression on her face, serious, her eyes narrow and her lips in a pout. Tanith Low, the British swordswoman.

She didn't like Soloman. He knew that. But she was a friend of his student so he was, usually, quite civil to her. He smiled as she got nearer.

"Miss Low," he greeted charmingly, "What brings you here to my humble-"

_SMACK!_


	3. Warriors, Artisans and Protein Shakes

**Warriors, Artisans and Protein shakes**

Solomon's head jerked so sharply to the right that he thought it might fly off his shoulders. Tanith Low's hand had moved back and then forward so fast that he hadn't noticed until an almightly power-slap met his cheek. Solomon rubbed his burning jaw and grimaced. _Fuck, that hurt,_ he thought then looked at Tanith. Her eyes, green as a cats, glittered with apparent fury. Her blonde hair framed her face like a mane. Truly, she looked terrifying.

Then, she growled one word, and it wasn't a hello...

"Death Bringer?"

Solomon blinking in surprize at this word coming out of Tanith Low's mouth. For a moment, he thought he had just imagined her saying it, the two seemed so unconnected.

"What?" he panted, hand still on his cheek. He played dumb, as much out of shock as a tactical move.

Tanith still wasn't backing off.

"You think that _Val_ is the _Death Bringer_?"

He remained dumb, "I-"

"You think that _she _is your new saviour? Your Messiah, your next Lord Vile-"

"Okay, stop right there," Soloman said, regaining his composure and also some anger. "Whatever you know about the DeathBringer, and apparently it's more than I would have thought, it's not the whole story. Lord Vile was scum. We Necromancers acknowledge that."

"Yeah but you still think that Valkyrie is capable of being like him," Tanith said, continuing even as he opened his mouth to retort. "That...that she is capable of murder and of destroying the world, breaking the barrier between life and death, and commiting mass genocide, just like he planned, just like he _did_-"

Solomon clapped his hand over her mouth suddenly and pulled her closer to him to shut her up. It didn't really work-she still struggled and hurled abuse athim through his fingers. But at least it was muffled.

"Listen," he said in hushed tones, "You...obviously know alot more than you should about the Death-Bringer. But talking about it here is dangerous for you. If I'm to explain myself to you or tell you more we can't do it here."

Tanith stopped struggling for a moment and just looked into his eyes. Hers were dark green, a hazel colour, and they were angry, fierce. In them he saw is own pale reflection and glassy blue eyes staring back at him. It was an odd sensation. For a moment there was nothing but this. He hadn't stared into a woman's eyes like this since...since Ombra...

And then Tanith Low bit his middle finger.

Solomon yowled in pain like a wounded cat and jumped back from her. Tanith spat on the ground and glared at him.

"Why the _fuck_ did you do that?" she demaned. "It's not like I was fucking ranting or anything."

"Oh weren't you?" Solomon snapped ,clutching his hand and glaring back at her. "Why the...hell did you bite me?"

"Because you clapped your fucking hand over my mouth!"

"Your language if the epitany of femininity."

"Shut up. Anyway, why would I want to listen to you explain yourself?"

"I don't know. Maybe to find out more about what is expected of your friend?"

"Oh yeah?" Tanith stepped toward him, half smiling. "How about I torture you or threaten to rip your fucking head off instead? Then you'll tell me faster."

"There's that language again..."

"Oh you want fucking language, darling? I'm from the Eastend. I know some places where you'd hear some riper language than mine. Hell, I could even take you to some here."

Solomon blinked at her. "Is that...is that you telling me you'd actually sit down in some place with me to talk?"

Tanith, now breathing heavily in her exertion and anger, looked him up and down for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Sure, yeah. Yeah we'll talk. And you'll tell me about this Death Bringer nonsense."

"Right."

"Right."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good. We'll take my car."

"Good but we're coming back for my bike." Solomon nodded at her and gestured toward the gates of the graveyard. The walked towards the exit together, Tanith making sure that she was walking beside him all the way, and not behind him. Solomon almost smiled.

Unknown to the two acquaintances, standing hidden behind the mausoleum with a smirk spreading across his face, was Craven, little cogs turning in his head.

Solomon drove into the city centre in his black Mercedes, Tanith in the passenger seat, taking control of the radio but not the conversation. Solomon parked near Merchant's Arch and the two crossed through into Temple Bar.

They crossed the square and Solomon led them to a cafe that he was fond of. It was hidden in between an old world pub and a sushi bar, and was sombre and sophisticated in decor, if a little dark for eleven o'clock in the morning. But he was a Necromancer. He was naturally drawn to places like this, like a moth to a flame. Also the fact that a person had been stabbed in this building twenty years previous and their ghost supposedly haunted the place added to his fascination.

Solomon stepped forward and just as he put his hand out to push open the door, he heard a throat clear behind him. He turned around and saw Tanith standing there with her arms folding, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" Solomon asked, puzzled. Tanith nodded at the cafe.

"You've taken me to a _goth joint_?" she remarked increduosly. SolomOn blinked at her.

"It's not a goth joint," he replied, somewhat defensively. "It's a perfectly respectable cafe."

"Yeah, decorated like somewhere the Addams Family would hang out," she said, throwing out her arms. "If you expect me to talk with you about Val and 'explain' yourself, I'm choosing the place."

"Oh really?" Solomon said with a smirk, stepping toward her, "And why should I let you do that?"

"Well..." She stepped toward him and for the first time that day, she smiled at him, albeit flirtatiously and coquettishly, "Don't you want to know how I know so much about your Death Bringer?"

Solomon looked at her strangely, with a smile creeping across his lips, "I would like to know that actually, yes."

"Well, good," she said, and that pretty smile settled into a smirk. "Then follow me."

With that she turned on her boot heel and strode through crowd. Solomon watched her for a moment, then eventually decided to follow her, struggling to keep up.

Tacky showbiz memorabilia covered the walls and rockabilly filled the air, teamed with the shrieks of children at tables of families, and the buzz of chatter in the over crowded restaurant. The smell of burnt burgers and vinger drenched chips hung in the air, and Solomon glared at Tanith with blue- grey eyes full of loathing from across the table of the booth they had miraculously managed to get.

Tanith twirled a blonde curl around her finger as she read the equally tacky laminated menu.

"Hmm, I hate this drinks menu," she commented, sounding off-hand. "Isn't it a disgrace that they don't have protein shakes?"

"I hate this _place_, Tanith," Solomon said slowly. "Thunderroad, Tanith? Really? You couldn't think over _anywhere _better to go?"

Tanith looked up from the menu and stared at Solomon with her dark eyes calmly. Her pretty face was serene and without anger, her mouth unsmiling but not unhappy.

"Well, as it was _my_ choice where we were going to go, Solomon," she said slowly and calmly, like a school teacher speaking to a child. "So obviously I was going to pick one of my favourite places. But the actual Temple Bar has a new owner, who is a _prick_, so I wasn't going there, and that place that sells the potato pizza is closed for renovations. So basically, this was my third choice."

Solomon blinked, looked around and then looked back at her from under his eyelashes. "_This_, was your third choice? Tanith..._why_? Why do you like this place? Strangely, I thought that you _might_ have a bit more class."

Tanith narrowed her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint Solomon, but I do actually like Thunderroad. For two reasons. One, the food here actually _is_ good..."

"Yes, if you like the taste of melted rubber," Solomon interjected with a cruel smile, "Or, as they like to call it, Dubliner's cheese..."

"And two," her eyes flickered to something over his left shoulder and she grinned, "The scenery's not bad."

Solomon looked over his shoulder with a puzzled expression on his face, and saw two handsome waiters approaching, one with blonde hair, one with light brown, both well-developed and speaking in Polish. They looked over at the table and smiled at Tanith. The blonde one flipped open a notepad, and walked over.

"Hello," he greeted in his thick accent, and in Solomon's opinion, with an equally thick manner. "You know vat you like?"

"Oh yes, I know what I like, alright," Tanith replied with a cheeky grin. Solomon cleared his throat loudly, and succeeded in diverting the waiter's attention.

"Yes, I think we'll have two cappachinos, when you're ready," he said quickly and brusqely. The waiter, nodded and brought his pen to his notepad, then frowned.

"Two..coffees..." he asked, slowly. Before Tanith could help him, Solomon chipped in.

"Yes, two of those coffees, you know, with the foam on them. There's a good boy."

The waiter gave him a long hard look which Solomon countered with his own, then wrote down the order and walked off with his buddy. The waiter with the brown hair gave Solomon a dirty look as they walked off. Solomon looked on with a strange pang of jealously throbbing inside him. He put it down to the fact that the two of them had such amazing pectoriales compared to his own skinny, pathetic frame, nothing to do with the effect they had on his associate.

Tanith gave them an apologetic smile, then turned back to Solomon, keeping the grin on her face.

"You... a little bit of a bitch, you know that?" she said. Solomon looked at her in disbelief.

"What, you think that _I'm_ a bitch?" he asked. Tanith blinked, dropping the smile.

"Are you implying that if anyone's a bitch around here, it's me?"

"What? No, I...I'm just asking, why am I a bitch exactly?"

"The way you sniped at that poor waiter!"

"I snipe at alot of people."

"What, do you not like Polish people?"

"I dislike gays too."

"What?"

"Look, are we going to talk about Valkyrie, or not?" Solomon asked in a rush. He took a deep breath and looked up at Tanith. She stared at him with a look of obvious loathing. _Right honey, as if_ _I don't feel shitty enough, _he thought bitterly.

After an eternity, she spoke. "Right. Well, I'll start by asking, why do you even _think_ that Val is the Death Bringer.?"

"She's more advanced than any of our students," Solomon told her with a shrug. "Students who have been with us since they were infants. She's got a talent, an aptitude for the art of Necromancy, that none of us have seen the likes of since Lord Vile."

"Alright, so she has the talent," Tanith admitted, leaning forward on her elbows. "But do you really think she has the...the..."

"Ability?" Solomon suggested. "To break the barrier?"

"Capability," Tanith's eyes turned sad. "Do you really think she's capable of such a thing?"

Solomon looked at her for a long moment, wondering how much she knew. He licked his lips. "Such a thing..."

"As saving the world from itself," Tanith said, her anger returning. "That's what the Death Bringer does, yeah? Breaks down the barrier between life and death but in order to do so has to kill everyone on Earth."

"Let me ask _you_ a question," he asked, leaning forward as well. "How exactly _do_ you know so much about the Death Bringer and our business?"

Tanith looked at him for a minute, then looked away and shrugged. "Val told me."

"No," Solomon said, a smile creeping across his lips. "No I don't think she did. You know far more than even I told her and you speak with such fury. You know alot."

Tanith stared at him hard again with those eyes. Solomon was usually quite good at making people quiver beneath his own cool gaze. But Tanith seemed to have the same talent. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with her glaring. Then she looked away to inspect her nails.

"Alright," she began casually. "If you must know, my mother was one of you guys."

Solomon was thrown by this. "Your mother?"

"Yes, my mother."

He looked at her. "But you're..." He gestured to try and help himself explain.

"Normal?" she suggested. Solomon nodded. Tanith smiled, and this time it was almost genuine.

"My mother met my dad during the war. He wasn't a Necromancer, but they fell in love so she left her Temple to be with him." Her eyes turned sharp again. "But I'm not telling you who she is, so don't ask. Just in case..."

"In case...I tell the authorities and they hunt her down?" Solomon guessed. Tanith looked at him, then nodded tightly.

"I wouldn't do that," he said softly, dropping his masquerade of arrogance for a moment. Tanith laughed cruelly, not buying it.

"Why wouldn't you?" she sniped, leaning forward. "Anyway, I'm not risking it. All you need to know is that she was a Necromancer, and she quit. And she told me stories...of the war and the people that fought in it. And, of course, of the Death Bringer. The way most parents would their kids stories of the boogie man."

"Hmm," was all Solomon said for a moment. Then he smirked.

"Did she tell you any stories about me?" he asked playfully. Tanith pretended to consider that for a second.

"Hmm, let me see. Did she tell me any stories of the extraordinary Solomon Wreath...nope, none that ring a bell."

Soloman let out a chuckle. Tanith grinned a nasty grin.

"But then, Necromancers aren't really known for their heroics, are they? You guys stay in your Temples and plot. That's all."

"That...is true for the majority of Necromancers, yes," Soloman agreed, but looking at her sternly. "But there are representatives from the various Temles, who have to work outside the Temple. Like me." He looked at the table, then chuckled darkly. "Here's a question for you Tanith."

"Shoot," she said coldly. His silvery eyes met her gaze.

"If your mother was once one of us, then don't you think it is slightly hypocritical of you to despise Necromancers?"

Tanith looked at him. "No, not at all."

"Really?"

"Mm. Would you like me to tell you why?"

"Go on."

"Coffee?"

The two were awakened from their heated conversation by a Polish accent, and looked up to see the buff blonde waiter looking down at them, holding two cappachinos. Tanith and Solomon also realised how they were leaning over the table towards each other. They hadn't realised they had leaned toward each other so much as they were talking. Their faces were barely inches apart. The two cleared their throats and leaned back in their seats, taking the coffee and thanking the waiter. He nodded at them, smiling at Tanith and glaring at Solomon, then walked off.

The mood of the table had lightened into a strained awkwardness. Solomon looked at Tanith, who had begun to sip her coffee.

"I'd still prefer a protein shake though," she muttered between sips.

"So...why _don't_ you think it's hypocritical?" he prompted, raising his dark eyebrows. Tanith looked at him from under her thick lashes, sipping her drink. Then she smiled.

"Because,"she began, laying down the mug, "of what you lot would do to my mother if you found her. And don't deny it. You would kill her, or enslave her for life. In your eyes, she is a heathen, and regardless of the reason that she left the order-that she fell in love with a non Necromancer and that she was pregnant with my big brother-you guys, would have her killed. That...small mindedness, is what I hate."

"I _adore_ the way you kept saying 'you' while looking at me as you explained that," Solomon, said, leaning back and staring her in the eye coldly.

"_Another_ thing I hate about you guys," Tanith continued, "Is the fact that during the war, you did...next to nothing-"

"Alright, _that _is _NOT_ something you can pin on me," Solomon chipped in, holding up one finger."I _ did_ fight during the war. Just ask Skulduggery that."

"Oh yeah, what side?" Tanith asked. Solomon chuckled and looked at the table. She was good.

Tanith bared her teeth. "See? Or did you switch sides alot, huh? Is that what you tend to do, Solomon?"

"Tanith," he began slowly, smirking, staring at his coffee. "Haven't you ever deliberated about a choice you had to make, a side you had to choose, and so stayed on middle ground until you knew which one to pick?"

Tanith thought about that for a moment. "Well yes," she replied slowly, looking him in the eye. "Like... choosing between Rocky Road and Raspberry Ripple. Never Mind the Buzzcocks and Mock the Week. The Ramones or Guns n' Roses. But never, you know, between good and evil, like!"

She said this last bit so sharply that Solomon was almost shocked. Then he laughed and looked down at the table miserably.

"Tanith, why do you hate me so much?" he asked, keeping a smirk on his face as he looked at the tablecloth.

"I never said I hated you," she replied breezily. Solomon chuckled.

"It's not generally something that you tell someone off hand, Tanith," he said, looking up at her. "But its something that someone with any sort of intelligence can tell."

"Right, so, you want to know _why_ I despise you so much?" Tanith asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Right...besides the whole Necromancer thing and the fact that you think my best friend is ready to destroy the world., thing, yeah?"

"Yes, besides that," he said still smirking. She leaned forward on the table and stared him right in the eye.

"You are arrogant," she began and he scoffed. "Vain, and self-indulgant. You are absolutely full of it, you think that you are God's gift. You are selfish, sneaky, dishonest and forget to tell people important things. You think of no-one but yourself and you are completely absorbed in this stupid religion of yours."

"Oh really, is that what you think of me Tanith?" he asked coldly back in his chair, his eyes hard and glittering.

"Yeah, that's what I think."

"Really, because I have absolutely no problem with you, Miss Low. I never did."

Tanith looked at him, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of remorse across her face. She blinked, and her eyes grew soft. Then she was back to herself.

"Well," she said, shrugged, "That's nice."

He noticed that she was annoyingly sexy when she was being pig-headed.

"Also, I thought you liked arrogant blokes," Solomon mused, sipping some coffee. "Considering how much time you spend with Skulduggery Pleasant."

Tanith's eyes narrowed. "That are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything."

"Are you sure, because you sound like you're impying that I have a thing for Skulduggery."

"Well do you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and smirking. She looked at him in disbelief.

"No," she replied adamantly. "No, I don't. He is my friend, we fight together but that is it. To tell you the truth, we actually tend to fight each other."

"Really?" Solomon asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Tanith looked at her coffee.

"Yeah we do. You might not believe it but we fight all the time." She sighed and her voice actually turned sad. "They're usually disagreements. Over Val or tactics or...something. He screams at me. He screamed at me once he fond out that Val had enlisted a vampire's help to help find him, and that we knew she was doing it.

"Oh understood why...he cares about her, he wants to protect her. But I had never seen him that angry before."

Solomon was taken back by her confiding in him. That's what she was doing after all. She seemed taken back too.

"Why the fuck am I telling you this?" she asked bluntly, but not aggressively, looking back up at him. He smiled and shrugged not wanting to fuck up again and make her angry with him.

"I don't know," he said honestly with a shrug,"Maybe just because I'm the only one here."

"I guess that's right," she said with a small laugh. "I mean, I can't slam Skulduggery in front of Val, because she adores him, and then Ghastly's his best friend, so I can't talk to him...and there's no-one else around that I could tell without fearing that it might get back."

Soloman chuckled slightly at a memory. Tanith looked at him.

"What?" she asked, calmly (_thank God_).

"Well...you know, I used to be partners with Skulduggery," Solomon told her slowly. Her hazel eyes widened considerably.

"Seriously?" she asked, astounded. Solomon nodded.

"Yep," he replied as she sipped on her coffee. "During the war...at one stage we had to carry out investigations together. Possibly one of the reasons why we rehabilitated ourselves as detectives. But I was never as close to him as Valkyrie is, or any of you are. But we worked well together. We disagreed constantly though. Skulduggery had different ideals to me..." He looked at his own mug. "So I told him I would investigate with him, nevermore."

"Quoth the Raven," Tanith said absently, taking another sip. Solomon stared at her at this.

"You...you know Poe?" he asked, in irrational disbelief. Tanith gave him a funny look and shrugged.

"Sure," she said with a half laugh, "Who dosn't know 'the Raven'." She then began to recite.

" 'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary/Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-"

" 'While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping." Solomon continued eagerly.

"As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door." She concluded with a smile smile. Then she caught herself and the smile dropped. She shrugged as if indifferent.

"It _is_ a classic, but there _are _other ones I prefer," Tanith told him, sipping from her tea. Solomon couldn't keep the smile from creeping across the corners of his mouth. "Such as?"

"Well," she said, laying down her cup. "Besides the detective stories of Auguste Dupin, I like 'A Dream Within a Dream'. And that weird one, 'A Valentine'.

"Really?" Solomon asked. Then she began reciting again.

Solomon looked at her, not realising that his mouth was half open. He felt...stunned. And she looked smug.

"You...how are you...so fluent?" he asked, stuttering in awe.

Tanith let out a laugh and played with her cup, a smile on her lips. "I went to Cambridge."

Solomon looked at her. "You what?"

"It's true. You wouldn't think to look at me now, now would ya?"

Solomon looked at her for a long moment. This woman...she was full of surprizes. He suddenly had an image in his head of him getting out of his seat, grabbing her and smashing her up against that wall, sinking his teeth into her neck and her crying out in pleasure-"

"Solomon?" Solomon awoke from his unwelcome vampire-like fantasy to find Tanith staring at him with a smile on her face.

"You sort of... zoned out there Sol," she said, still grinning. That was the first time she would use his nickname. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said hastily. "So, um, you said you liked Dupin. Have you read 'Murders in the Rue Morgue'?"

And so the two of them spend the afternoon sat there, as the world went by around them, no longer talking about dark deeds and Death Bringers and the end of the world. They talked of literature and Tanith's days at Cambridge, Solomon's days in Rome and the Middle East, then onto plays and movies.

Ironically they were eventually asked to leave at a busy hour by the very waiter Solomon had ticked off. The two continued walking and talking around Temple Bar until eventually the sky looked grey and dismal and Tanith announced that she wanted to get back to her bike. Solomon agreed to take her and so they headed back to his car.

As they reached the Merc the street was quiet enough apart from the cars and taxis going by. Before Tanith got into the passenger seat Solomon called from the opposite side of the car, "I had a...surprizingly good day today."

Tanith looked over at him, her golden hair framing her face. She nodded curtly.

"It was...okay, yes." The warmness that had come into her voice, the _real_ Tanith that he had seen during the afternoon, had evapourated. She looked at the ground.

"We got off topic, Mr Wreath," she said seriously, eye gazing at the cement. "We shouldn't have. We were supposed to be talking about Valkyrie."

Solomon frowned. "I...I know that, but we...just got distracted I suppose..."

"Yes,well, we shouldn't have," Tanith said firmly, looking at him with an apathetic expression on her face. "And I had so much else to ask you. So I suppose there's...no other solution than to meet up again tomorrow."

Solomon blinked at her. "Are you...are you serious?"

Tanith nodded. ", at noon. I'll meet you under Merchant's Arch again, okay?"

"Um..yes, of course." He stuttered, trying to regain some composure.

"Good. I suppose it's only right that you get to pick where we have our coffee tomorrow, so. Or...protein shakes..."

"Yes, I...suppose." Tanith looked at him for a moment, then the serious look struggled to remain on her face, and she smirked.

"Get in, so," she said, and she got into the passenger seat. Solomon blinked at the car for a moment, then smirked and got in.

**A/N: Ta-da! And so an unlikely pairing begins. Tune in next to here Tanith and Solomon talk about necrophilia and Hitchcock. Enjoy!**


	4. Falling Slowly

**A/N: Hey! I know it's taken a while but here's Chapter Four. **

**Falling Slowly**

For the next few days the two met up with each other for coffee, sometimes at a place of Solomon's choosing sometimes of Tanith's. She was the main organiser of these meetings, always giving the cover that she wanted to ask him questions about Valkyrie and about what the Necromancer life, if she were to choose it as her magical discipline, would hold in store for her. In actual fact, Tanith just wanted to talk to Solomon some more.

Tanith didn't know why she liked him. He was a prick, a dick, an arse-hole, a bastard and a bitch, all rolled into one. And that cane he contained his Necromancy power in was like a physical manifestation of his arrogance.

But for some reason, she was fascinated by him. At least, that's what she told herself- that she just liked talking to him and that she found him interesting. He WAS charming and cultured, and he had an interest in literature very similar to hers.

She couldn't talk books with Ghastly. Although she loved Ghastly and his patriotism...he could be a tad small-minded when it came to his Irishness. The books he read tended to be by Irish or Anglo-Irish authors, which was great, because Ireland did produce some of the finest literature in the world.

But his patriotism blocked his mind to other writers. Yet Solomon was Irish, and he liked other writers. And then Valkyrie and Fletcher...no, she could not talk about literature with them. Perhaps Skulduggery or China, but China didn't like her and Tanith was hardly best friends with Skulduggery. No, Solomon was the best person to talk to about this stuff. Also...he was cute.

In a way. In a...businessman-in-a-sharp-suit kind of way. His hair was so black, like a lake at night and flopped onto his forehead in a tidy side fringe. He was pale, tall and slim, but not scrawny. No, he seemed...strong, though thin. His eyes were fabulous too. He had eyelashes that most women would kill for, but his eyes were also so...clear. They were a silvery blue, not cold like China's or warm like Ghastly's. But just clear. Like water.

Solomon had never met a woman like Tanith Low. She was...well, indescribable, really. She could be cultured and very knowledgable on subjects such as literature, film and theatre. She was very intelligent and practical, and tactical. But in another way, she was crude and crass and it was obvious she grew up in a neighbourhood very unlike his own sheltered upbringing.

Although she had been brought up by basically middle class parents,she said she had been surrounded by ragamuffins and street children, sneaking out to play with them in the rougher areas of London. Then Solomon remembered his own childhood, a little boy surrounded by books, his bedroom his kingdom, always poorly and afraid of almost everything...

Except for that which everyone around him seemed to fear, his parents, his teachers, for him and for themselves.

He wasn't afraid of death.

"Solomon?"

Solomon awoke from his reverie to find Tanith's dark eyes staring into his. They were in his favourite cafe, the one he had shown her on the first day together. The room seemed so dark to him now, he almost wished he was in Thunderroad again.

At least Tanith helped to brighten up the place. She wore her usual tight fitting leather, teamed with jeans and leather boots. She seemed to have a few leather tops. Her favourite was the brown but she also had a deep red and black. She wore the red today, and it brought out the green in her dark eyes beautifully. Her blonde hair was radiant, and seemed half-way tamed today, flowing rather than curling senselessly. Oddly, he wasn't sure if he preferred it this way.

"You zoned out again Solomon," she told him in that adorable Cockney accent. "Are you on anything?"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe other girls you've met haven't been ballsy or observant enough to tell you this," she continued. "But you, Solomon Wreath, have a terrible tendency to daydream. Either that, or you've been enhaling too much incense in that Necromancy Temple of yours"

Solomon looked at her. She WAS observant, but he didn't want her to think she had rattled him. He put on a sigh. "It's not a CHURCH, Tanith we don't USE incense during our masses."

"But you do have masses," she prompted. He smiled. She loved to be right.

"Yes, as does every religion." A thought entered his head and he leaned foreward in interest. "Let me ask you. What denomination are you? Out of interest."

Tanith shrugged and sipped the coffee he had bought her. "None."

"None at all?"

"No. I don't believe in religion. Or God, really..." She sighed. "I believe we're born, we live, we die and then we fly."

"What about an afterlife?" Solomon asked, prompting slightly. "I mean, do you believe in one of those?"

Tanith put down her coffee and narrowed her eyes. Then she smirked at him.

"What do you Necromancers believe, as a matter of interest?" she asked, keeping that smirk on her lips. Solomon stared back at her for a moment, then decided to answer her.

"We believe," he began slowly, leaning forward, "That...in a sense, there is no afterlife. Not a heaven or a hell or a purgatory, just...another life."

Tanith frowned. "Like reincarnation?"

"Yes," he replied with a nod. "We believe that death flows into life and in turn life flows into death. I mean, for every person that dies in this world, it's entirely plausible that another is born in their place,yes?"

"Well, yes," Tanith admitted. "But then the population of the world is always increasing. What you're saying is that the souls of the dead instantly reappear in the bodies of new born babies. Well how is the world's population increasing so? Where are those extra souls coming from, then?"

"Ah, well, THAT, dear Tanith," Solomon explained with relish. "is where OUR belief in afterlife comes in. We believe that some souls stay in a sort of limbo for a period of time. These are the souls of the wickedest of people, mage AND human. They stay in this place for sentences in which they are punished for the atrocities they committed, sentences of several hundred years or so. Then, when their sentences are completed, and only then, are they released into new human bodies."

Tanith stared at him for a long momnet. He wondered if she was going to contradict him, argue with him, maybe. Then she laughed.

"You believe that?" she asked, looking at him and smiling.

"Um, yes," Solomon said, raising an eyebrow.

Tanith stared, and her smile turned soft. "You're weird," she finally said. "But I like you."

He stared at her, feeling a lump rise in his throat for some reason, but swallowed it swiftly, along with a gulp of his coffee.

The two talked about alot of different things when they met up. Their lives, their homes, their favourite foods. But as much as the found out new things about each other, they also found out that each of them had secrets...

The two were in the Bad Ass cafe talking about weaponry on one of these days.

"A sword is the best weapon anyone could possibly have," Tanith insisted haughtily, leaning back in her chair. "It's elegant, precise, deadly..."

"And exhibit A, 'Indiana Jones: Raider of the Lost Ark'," Solomon argued, a smile on his lips. "Swordsman, proves that a scimatar is fancy alright. Not so good up against Indiana's gun."

Tanith blew a raspberry. "Guns are clumsy. It's so easy to miss. And anyway, I know one thing."

"What?"

She grinned. "A sword is a hell of alot better than a stick." She glanced at his cane.

Solomon opened up his mouth in shock, then smirked. "Excuse me, but a CANE is an excellent weapon. Besides the whole Necromancer thing-"

"Cheating," Tanith sniped with a grin.

"-Canes, are also elegant. Afterall, they're not the only sticks that are used as weapons. What about Kendo sticks? And have you ever gotten a whack of a bo-staff? Huh, knowing you, you probably have."

At the mention of the bo-staff the smile on Tanith's face faded. She looked at the table.

"I once had a friend who used a bo-staff," she said, slowly and quietly. Solomon let out a triumphant 'ha'."

"And did the two of you ever get into a fight?" he asked haugtily.

Tanith stared at the edge of the table, making tiny ridges in it with her thumbnail.

"I fought him a couple of times, yeah," she answered in a low voice. Solomon smile faded slowly as he watched her face grow solemn.

"And...you don't fight him anymore?" Solomon prompted. Tanith looked up at him, wearing her poker face.

"He's dead," she replied simply, and resumed scraping at the table. The smile on Solomon's face dropped.

"Oh," he said, awkwardly. A moment of silence passed. Finally, Solomon cleared his throat and asked, "Um. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Tanith said swiftly, her face brightening and then asking quickly. "Shall I get the next round of coffee?"

Solomon looked at her for a long moment, then said. "Um, sure-"

"Great," Tanith chirped, then rose from her seat and headed to the counter.

On another day, in a markt in Temple Bar, Tanith got excited around a DVD section.

"Oh my God, Hamlet!" she yelped, picking up the DVD. "With Kenneth Brannagh!"

"So I gather you like Hamlet," Solomon guessed with a wry smile. Tanith turned to him, holding the DVD in front of mouth. It was incredibly cute.

"It's the best!" she said. "Apart from the whole Oedipus Complex thing and stupid little Ophelia, but I love it. It's one of my favourite Shakespearian plays."

Solomon's smile dropped. "Why do you find her stupid?"

"Find who?"

"Ophelia."

"Oh. Well, just the weakness of her mind, you know?"

"Her heart had been broken," Solomon argued, looking at the ground. "She had lost everything. Isn't that reason enough to go mad and drown herself?"

"No, I don't think so," Tanith said, and she looked at him. "Hamlet did love her. He acted stupidly but he had a reason. Ophelia could have married him, but she acted too hastily."

"I disagree."

"Oh really? What if you were Hamlet? Finding the love of your life drowned like that."

Solomon didn't answer. He just stared at the cobbles.

"Well?" Tanith pressed.

"Well, I'd obviously be devastated, okay?" Solomon snapped back. He resumed looking at the DVD's and books, while Tanith eyed him, carefully.

"Are you okay Solomon?" she asked.

"Yes I'm fine," he said hastily, then a lump rose in his throat. He squeezed it back down and choked. "Um...do you want to go for a drink?"

Tanith stared at him for a long moment, wondering what he wasn't telling her. Then she nodded.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, then the two crossed the square together.

The two talked of books, of movies, of theories. They even found that they had common interests in terms of directors.

"Hitchcock was a genius, yes?" Tanith challenged one evening, walking up Dame Street. Solomon walked beside her, swinging his cane by his side. He smiled a dry smile.

"Are you saying that because he was English, or because of his talent?" Solomon asked.

Tanith shrugged. "Well, a bit of both actually."

Solomon laughed. "Yes, he was a genius."

"Do you have a favourite film by him?" Tanith asked.

"Vertigo," Solomon replied. Tanith looked up at him.

"Me too," she said, surprized. Solomon turned his head and his silver eyes met her gaze.

"It's your favourite too?" he asked, also taken back.

"Of course."

"Why?"

"It's romantic," Tanith said, shrugging. "And very tragic. Kim Novak was superb."

"That she was," Solomon agreed, looking ahead of him. "I liked James Stewart too, though. There's something about becoming obsessed with the memory of a dead lover that I can empathise with."

"Why?" Tanith asked.

Solomon did nothing for a moment. Then he shrugged. "It's a form of necrophilia."

Tanith stopped suddenly. Solomon turned to her and saw a look of disgust cover her features.

"In a nice way," he added quickly with a grin. "I don't mean shagging the dead body. I mean holding onto the memory, keeping it with you, not letting it seep away so you can hardly remember what life was like with the one you loved."

"It drove him mad though," Tanith pointed out quietly, her features softening.

Solomon gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It's better to have loved and gone mad with such love than too have never loved before."

Days together grew longer, lasting from breakfast to sunset. Every now and then it might be brief meetings at night for drinks in bars and clubs around the city. Of course the two left time for their own, separate lives. Tanith still remained training Valkyrie and crime-fighting with her and Skulduggery. Solomon fulfilled his Necromancer duties dutifully. But for each other, they always made time. They just didn't let each other know that.

One dismal evening at dusk the two were about to part. The sky was a dirt grey, patches of dishwater yellow barely visible in the west as the sun went down. Rain pelted pedestrians and cars indisciminantly, causing businessmen in their finely-tailored suits to dash in an undignified way from doorway to doorway, making teenage girls in short skirts and impractical jackets to squeal and laugh, using bags as umbrellas. Tanith and Solomon walked through the tunnel that was Merchant's Arch and stood at the opening, looking out at the rain before them and the Ha' Penny Bridge. Solomon looked down at Tanith.

"Are you alright for a lift?" he asked gentlemanly.

"I have my bike, Solomon," Tanith replied not looking at him, but he saw a smile creep onto her lips.

"But in this weather?" Solomon asked, frowning. "Are you sure you'll be..."

"Okay?" Tanith finished, looking at him. She laughed. "Solomon, I've fought trolls, Cleavers and hybrid gods. I have been injured in every possible way you could imagine. A little bit of rain isn't going to kill me."

"I know that, but..." He looked down. "As you've already pointed out, I am generally a bit of a bastard. I'm trying to cut down on my curtness by being courtious."

"That was a great line," Tanith said with a smile. Solomon looked at her. The two stared at each other for a long moment, along in the short sheltered tunnel. Before them, the sky was falling. Behind them, was the hustle and bustle of a rain soaked Temple Bar. For a few moments they were stuck in a strange sort of oblivion, where nothing existed with them. To Solomon, there was nothing but hazel greenery. To Tanith, there was nothing but clear, silver water. And then they caught themselves.

"I'd better go," Tanith began, shaking herself and breaking eye contact. "I'll see you tomorrow, Solomon."

She pulled her coat tighter around her and dashed down the steps, crossing the shining pavement, darting across the road and running over the Ha' Penny Bridge. After a minute she disappeared from Solomon's view, her golden hair gone.

"Goodbye Tanith," he muttered softly, not quite sure what had just taken place. Then he too descended the steps, passing a person begging with a coffee cup in hand, and turned left, striding up the quay through the rain.


End file.
